Rock Bottom (Imogene Museum Mystery #1) (8 page)

“
I’m sure they’ll find him, Lindsay. Sheriff Marge has everyone on it, searching the roads.”

Lindsay nodded and swiped at the glass case with her cleaning rag.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Uh-oh, tears. I wanted dissolve alongside Lindsay, but I had to hold myself together, had to be the responsible one. And think clearly.

“You want to tell me?”

“
You know when Greg said those nice things about me, about how I can explain football?”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
Well, after that, after a touchdown, I hugged him. I was just so excited and happy and jumping up and down, and I hugged him. Mark saw it, and we had a big fight. He doesn’t understand that when I’m happy I hug people. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Lindsay wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Do you think Mark did something to Greg? He was really angry.”

“
When was the last time you saw Mark?”

“
Saturday morning, when we had the fight.”

“
Don’t worry about it, okay? I like that you’re an indiscriminate hugger. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“
Really?”

“
Really. And if Mark can’t figure out how wonderful you are, you should ditch him.”

Lindsay managed an uncomfortable half-smile.
“You don’t think Greg is into drugs, do you?”

My mouth dropped open.
“What makes you say that?”

“
A guy I know, Bard Joseph — he was a few years ahead of me in high school — got into drugs and disappeared. I heard he’s back in town. But he’s been gone for a long time. Everybody says his disappearance devastated his dad.” Lindsay chewed her lip. “And sometimes Mark — well, I know he smokes pot sometimes.”

“
Lindsay. Why are you going out with him?”

Lindsay shrunk into her shoulders, her face apprehensive.

“Look, I don’t think Greg’s ever had anything to do with drugs. And you need to take care of yourself, kiddo. It doesn’t sound like Mark’s good for you.”

“
I know.” Lindsay sighed.

I stomped up the stairs to my office, frustrated with Lindsay for not seeing her own worth. But maybe gullible, naive Lindsay had more backbone
— sticking it out and hoping for the best. I’d fled from the life surrounding my ex-fiancé, precisely because I hadn’t the backbone to face all my family and friends and their expectations. With my track record, I certainly wasn’t qualified to offer relationship advice.

I dialed Sheriff Marge and filled her in on Lindsay
’s worries.

“
Huh. Those Mason kids are not exactly the cream of the crop. Mark’s older brother, also a good quarterback, is serving time for possession and distribution. His sister is probably using too, but she’s not my problem since she skipped to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding and stayed there.” Brakes squealed in the background. “I’ll drop by the Mason farm. Probably find a few baggies of dope, but I’d be real surprised if Mark actually assaulted Greg. He’s mostly hot air.”

Next, I called Dr. Elroy and left a message when he didn
’t answer.

I stood at the window, watching the
Columbia flow by, serene and gray-green today. Was Greg also staring at the Columbia right now? I wished the river was telepathic, taking my thoughts to him, or bringing his to me.

“
Where are you?” I whispered.

My phone rang.

“Meredith, this is Clyde Elroy. And, please call me Clyde. Your message was so formal. I have no news either. I went with an OSP trooper to check Greg’s apartment. He wasn’t there, and everything looked normal. Most of his neighbors weren’t home, but one girl did say she saw him leaving on Thursday, about mid-afternoon.”

“
That fits with when he arrived. We worked here at the museum for a few hours Thursday night.”

Clyde
sighed. “OSP says the only thing we can do now is hope the news segments tonight turn up valid tips. The Eugene station is going to air it, too.”

“
That’s pretty much what Sheriff Marge told me.”

“
I’m thinking about coming your way. I can’t stand sitting around here doing nothing. And since he was last seen up there — well, am I crazy?”

“
No. I’d feel the same way. I should warn you, though — there isn’t a motel within 40 miles.”

“
I’ve already been searching the Internet. There are some decent places to stay in The Dalles.”

“
I’ll be here at the museum tomorrow. You know where it is?”

“
Yeah, Google Maps. See you.”

I returned to the window. A couple hours of daylight left. I didn
’t care what Sheriff Marge said — doing nothing was just not an option.

CHAPTER
7

I hurried home and opened the truck
’s passenger door for Tuppence. The dog scrambled in and thumped her tail on the seat while I cranked down the window.

“
Use that nose of yours, old girl. If you smell Greg, let me know.”

Tuppence
’s yawn ended in a whine.

We drove west on Highway 14 with freezing wind barreling in the open windows. What other route would Greg have taken? I slowed before every drop-off, checking for tire tracks in the gravel at the edge of the pavement and fresh scrapes on guardrails. All the roadside brushy growth looked intact. Tuppence snorted and sneezed into the wind, her ears flapping back.

I love the peace and solitude of driving — it helps me think. The easy rhythm of guard rail posts and the dashed yellow line calmed my swirling thoughts, although worry still weighed heavily.

I had only been on one road trip as a child, to my stepfather Alex
’s law school reunion in Michigan. I’d sprawled in the backseat and spent the miles reading and drawing, separated from the tension between Mom and Alex in the front seats. I knew better than to comment on landmarks and tourist signs we passed. Keep quiet. Be invisible.

Not that my mother and stepfather ever actually fight. No shouting or slamming of doors because that isn
’t appropriate. And appropriateness is the standard by which they measure their lives. What would other people think?

I didn
’t realize it then, but appropriateness is usually the source of tension in their marriage. You’re not going to wear that dress to the fundraiser, are you? It’s too short. Your gray’s showing. Get your hair done before Senator Schmidt comes for dinner.

And Mom has complaints as well. You monopolized Mattie Donald over cocktails last night. It was all I could do to keep her husband from making a scene. If you keep playing golf with Ralph DiMarco, the bar association will think you
’re on his other payroll too.

What would other people think? What was Greg thinking? He was careful and precise in his research, so that must carry over into his everyday life. He wouldn
’t do anything rash or stupid. It had to be an accident. Maybe he was in a hospital right now. Maybe he had amnesia.

I kneaded the muscles in the back of my neck. Sheriff Marge would have checked the hospitals. Our best chance was the televised announcement tonight. Someone must have seen Greg.

I drove until dusk, coming closer and closer to real civilization and more drivers frustrated by my varying speeds. I got honked at more than once. When a black BMW tailgated and then passed, the angry driver flipping me off with one hand while pressing a cell phone to his ear with the other, I decided to turn around. My teeth chattered, and the rearview mirror showed that my lips were the purplish blue color of a deep bruise. Tuppence curled on the seat with her nose tucked inside her haunch.

“
Had enough, old girl?”

She blinked.

I took the next exit and stopped to roll up the windows.

We covered ground on the way home much faster. I pulled into Junction General
’s gravel parking lot. Metal bells clanked against the glass door as I pushed it open.

Gloria turned from where she
’d been stocking cigarettes behind the counter. “Hey, Meredith. You look windblown.”

“
Been driving Highway 14, hoping for a sign of Greg.”

Gloria nodded.
“You and everyone else.”

“
Everyone else?”

“
Law enforcement, anyway. I’ve had two sheriff’s deputies and a state trooper stop in this afternoon, asking if I’d seen him. Mac asked, too. Sheriff Marge called.”

“
So, you didn’t see Greg then? I thought maybe he’d stopped for gas or something.”

Gloria shook her head.
“He probably only has to fill that Prius up once a month.”

“
Oh, right.” I looked around the store absently, trying to remember why I’d stopped.

“
You need dog food?” Gloria asked.

“
What? Oh, no. People food.”

“
The heat and serve stuff is in the freezer at the back.”

That grated on me. Did I look like I couldn
’t cook?

Maybe Gloria was right. Not tonight.

I found individually wrapped bean and cheese burritos and bought two. Enough heavy carbs and fat to send me straight into a comatose slumber. Something to temporarily stifle the dull throb of worry.

Back in the RV, I nuked the burritos and checked my e-mail, hoping for a note from Greg.
“Hey, I decided to go exploring. Here are some great photos I took of _______.”

Nope. Greg didn
’t do that sort of thing. Come to think of it, he almost never e-mailed me. He was a texting man. I was grasping at anything, nothing, and no longer thinking straight.

The phone rang.

“I checked on the Mason boy,” Sheriff Marge said. “Got an invitation from a college scout on Friday night to visit U-dub, so he and his dad drove up to Seattle on Saturday and stayed the weekend.”

“
He was here on Saturday, arguing with Lindsay.”

“
Yeah, in the morning. They left right after. His mom’s upset. She likes Lindsay. No remorse from the boy.”

“
Any other leads?”

“
The TV tips are starting to come in, and we’re sorting through them. Everything from a sighting at a gas station in Yreka to an alien vaporization right before the witness’s eyes.”

“
Anything valid? Yreka’s not too far.”

“
It’s 250 miles past Corvallis. We’re focusing on our corridor, and state troopers are already out checking on a few tips. I’ll keep you updated. Get some sleep.”

The first bite of burrito turned to gummy paste in my mouth, reminding me of the flour and water concoction Mom made when I was little and wanted to glue stuff. Edible, non-toxic and relatively easy to clean up. All it really needed to do was outlast my four-year-old attention span.

Which the burrito succeeded at as well — my appetite vanished. I dropped the burrito on the floor for Tuppence who nosed it but didn’t sample.

I slid into bed, fully clothed and cradling the phone, just in case.